Law of the Underworld
by smoking-tulips
Summary: Prequel to 'Cold Protection' - various stories about several members of the Mafia Families and how they all eneded up where they are.
1. Chapter 1

_A.N: Hei. this is a prequel to "Cold Protection" and will feature most of the characters in Hetalia. I'll be revealing the background stories of most of them and how they came to be members of the Mafia. at times it might be a bit confusing in terms of how old they all are - but hopefully it will all be clearer to you as you read more. _

_Hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

><p>He was always a bright and smiling child – forever spreading laughs wherever he went. Teachers adored him and parents deemed him an acceptable playmate for their children.<p>

School wasn't even difficult – he had a fantastic gift for politics and anything requiring any forms of debate. He could engage anyone – a friendly smile present no matter what.

In short: Preben was heading for greatness even at a very young age.

However, at the age of 16 he dropped out and started working for an old blacksmith – his parents were in shock. They had wanted him to be a lawyer, or perhaps a banker, yet here he was 'wasting his time' making weapons and old fashioned tools. Whenever he came home it was difficult to mask their disappointment and eventually Preben's ever present smile faltered ever so slightly whenever someone mentioned his family or his future. He eventually decided to ignore any negative comments ever – resulting in a rather odd friendship with Ivan.

Ivan was four years younger than Preben – but his height made him look to be the same age. The two would steal alcohol and spend weekends drinking in the woods – playing pranks on Preben's British neighbour Arthur.

The year he turned 18 he joined the navy. At the time he deemed it the easiest and best way to get away from his parents and become independent. It was there he met his greatest enemy and best friend: Berwald.

The Swede was a year younger and training to be a Swedish Combat engineer, and unlike the spiky haired Dane he had not exactly joined willingly.

No, Berwald only joined because it was expected of him. He hated every second of it – he didn't like working with a lot of people; despite his intimidating appearance Berwald was hardly a man who liked trouble. What he did enjoy was building and taking apart things – so engineering came natural to him.

In many ways he and Preben were such stark opposites it was a mystery how the two even managed to hold a normal conversation at all.

They'd be violently fighting over the smallest things one minute and then the next minute they would be sitting on the floor laughing and sharing a joke about something no one else understood.

Eventually both the Danish and Swedish generals on the respective ships gave up trying to figure the two young men out and simply let them have their little battles whenever the two ships anchored up together.

It was a cold and windy November night in the harbour of Bergen that they meet Erik.

The Norwegian was only 19 at the time but dressed in his navy uniform and with a cold and uncaring expression he seemed a lot older, and the two older men didn't realise he was younger than them until Erik bitterly remarked he thought the legal drinking age for spirits should be lowered.

It takes the Dane thirty minutes and the calculator on his phone to figure out Erik's age with only the tiny information the Norwegian male has so far let slip.

Eventually; when Preben finally calculated the shorter Nordic's age he took pity on him and bought him half a bottle of aquavit and they continued chatting about everything and nothing.

The three kept in loose contact after that – a few letters or e-mails every once in a while and when the three boats were ever in the same harbour they'd go out and drink like there was no tomorrow. Earning them all a reputation in various harbour bars as any pub-owner's worst nightmare.

"Hey...Bear" Preben inquired as he lounged in the top bunk in the swede's private cabin – usually everyone had to share with at least one other soldier, but no one dared sleep in the same room as Berwald so he was quickly allowed his own space – he didn't really mind at all. It enabled him to tinker about with his own little inventions and creations without disturbance.

"What?" came the gruff reply from the bottom bunk as Berwald attempted to read his book.

"Ever get bored of this place?"

"All the time..why do you ask?"

"I'm thinking of leaving..."

"And do what? You're 22 and you've got no proper education..."

"So? I'll find something...just you wait and see. It will be spectacular." even if he couldn't see Preben's grin – Berwald knew him well enough by now to hear it present in his voice.

Yet all he did was shrug the older male's words away, thinking he was only making big talk.

However, a week later the smiling Dane waved 'good bye' to the large boat and walked onto dry land for good.

Preben had a plan – one that had been under construction ever since he found out about a particular family secret his parents had managed to suppress and forget.

When the smiling Dane showed up on the Germanic Family's doorstep with a document entitling him to a substantial amount of money or part of their land - Germany could only stare in shock.

However, Preben was right; and the document was very, very real.

Austria stared from the document to the Dane with a slight frown upon his face, Germany was no better – the only one grinning was Prussia.

"Kesesesesese~ didn't think great-grandpa had a soft spot for family." the white haired man smiled smugly.

"Hey, I don't give a damn about what you guys choose – but I am entitled to a a few things none the less" Preben was completely at ease despite the fact that he was unarmed and in the presence of some of the most dangerous criminals in the underworld.

"We'll give you some of the land we control." Austria finally says after mulling over the choices carefully.

"Any wishes as to what land you want? We might take it into consideration" Germany added as he studies the spiky haired youth – who was despite appearances; actually the same age.

"Yeah! I'd like land in the northern part of this city" Preben grinned widely as he gestured excitedly.

Prussia almost chocked on his drink at the statement, while Austria and Germany stared in shock.

"You...you want to be the sole owner of the land that...borders against the soviet family's lands of influence?" Austria finally managed to find his voice – the Dane as good as insane in his eyes now.

"Yeah, you see...that's the land that my great grandpa owned before he transferred it to your great-grandpa for 'safekeeping'...I want to carry on the family legacy! So just give me the the northern part of the city and I'll be out of your hair." There isn't a hint of doubt in the Dane's voice, so after a brief meeting the Germanics agree to let him have what is rightfully his. Not that they had much use for the northern part of the city anyway – even the harbour was useless to them as it's far to close to the Soviet's land.

Prussia found the whole thing hilarious, Germany was only glad to not have to share a influence/ownership border with the Soviets any more, while Austria was the only one who was actually angry they've lost influence over parts of the city.

Preben knew exactly what he needed to do next as he walked out of the Germanic household with a grin – yet he was not quite sure how to do it. Preben is no idiot: he knows he's not going to finalize his plan without help from others . But finding the right people will be tricky.

It's while searching for the right person he bumps into Tino.

The shorter Finnish man is a mercenary for hire – despite his young age he's one of the best in the business – but that's not what Preben is interested in right now.

No, the tall Nordic male is intrigued by the sniper because upon getting to know one another over a drink they realise they have one common friend: Berwald.

It doesn't take Preben long to track down the intimidating Swede after that.

"Morning Bear" he greets as he throws the door to the café open – Berwald almost drops the tray he's holding and gapes at Preben in shock – he's not heard anything from the Dane since he left he army – yet here he is: two years later. It's too planned to simply be a coincidence.

"What are you doing here?" the swede asks over a cup of coffee and some pastries during his break.

"My plan is coming together...I just need some help."

"With what?"

"Various things..." the Dane shrugs

"Why aren't you telling me everything?" Berwald is highly suspicious – yet the smile on the Dane's face is as genuine as ever.

"Because it might be slightly illegal." the spiky haired male replies with a hushed voice.

"I'll do it."

the answer takes the Dane by surprise – yet he stretches his hand out to the swede and shakes it firmly

"Welcome to the Nordic Family, Sweden"

It's a simple job really – robbing a bank.

Especially with military training under their belts. And Sweden has done a few missions with Finland in his spare time – they're in and out for the bank a lot quicker than first planned for – giving them plenty of time to create a false trail for the cops to follow.

They sit at the dinner table and count their spoils with smiles – Denmark is grinning like never before.

However, Berwald is still a bit worried.

"What are we going to do with all of this? It'll be impossible to use it..."

"Got it covered." Denmark interjects and holds up a cellphone – the phone-book is showing a name Berwald knows very well.

Erik Alexander Sørensen.

"What on earth can he do?"

"Well...Last thing I heard he was doing a business degree..."

"That's no guarantee he'll help. He's got a younger brother to take care of..."

"Precisely." the Dane grins wickedly as he hit's 'dial' on the phone. Waiting eagerly for their Norwegian friend to pick up.

They don't have to wait long.

"Yo Erik, got a job for you."

"...pay good?" the Norseman inquires over the phone with a cold voice

"Pay is very good." Preben replies, grinning at Berwald sitting opposite of him as he fans himself with a large wad of cash.

"I'll do it." comes the immediate response.

Berwald can't say he's too surprised – he too jumped aboard the Dane's ship even if he knew nowhere about it's course or route.

~~~~~~~~X~~~~~~~~

It's a very tired Erik who shows up at Preben's door a week later – a tiny white haired 6 year old clinging to the Norwegian's leg. The two older men give each other worried looks – Erik looks a lot older than his 22 years of age; dark circles under his eyes only made more prominent due to his paler than usual skin – yet upon Erik's request they don't ask a single question.

In return: Erik doesn't ask questions either – instead he sets about distributing the money into various funds abroad. And within two years they've built up a substantial amount of money and a hefty reputation as a ruthless family.

Germany and Austria can't believe their ears when Netherlands drops by their mansion to confirm a rumour – the Nordics have settled the border dispute with the soviets.

They are less than pleased when Belgium can add that Finland has joined their ranks as an official member.

For the first time in his life Austria wishes he killed someone the first time he ever met them.

~~~~~~~~X~~~~~~~~

"People are getting suspicious..." Erik calmly admits during dinner as he tries to make Haldur eat his food – with little success.

"Can you do anything?" Preben asks with a mouthful of food

"Perhaps...there's this guy Finland worked with..."

The blonde male in question nods with a large grin.

"Switzerland is an expert at money laundering, for the right price he's sure to take the job."

Berwald and Denmark listen intently. Even if they themselves are becoming well known in the underworld – Finland has been in the business for longer and thus knows a few things they don't.

"How quickly can you find this person and convince him to help us?" the Dane inquires curiously.

The smile Erik sends him in return tells Preben all he has to know – Norway has already found him.

Even if Switzerland said it would take a long time – it's only a year of service before Norway takes over the whole operation. A smile and a promise of a huge favour in return in the future is the payment the Swiss man receives at the end – along with a promise of a secure job. The money Basch receives each month is not part of the deal – but he doesn't dare refuse it. After all, it enables him to keep Anni very safe and blissfully unaware of the future in store for her.

* * *

><p><em>A.N: I apologise if this is a bit confusing – I've not done this much maths since being at school. Figuring out everyone's ages is kinda difficult, seeing as it all has to fit into the time-line for this AU.<em>


	2. Chapter 2

Berwald quickly realised the only person who made the army bearable was Preben. A year after the Dane left he gave up trying to please his family by becoming a general, and instead took up a job at his aunt's café.

It's there he met Tino.

The younger male intrigued Berwald – partly due to how much he reminded him of Preben and partly because he found it odd how someone so happy and smiling was wearing such scruffy clothes.

However, he didn't ask – instead he gave him a coffee and a pastry on the house.

Tino came back ever day after that and every day Berwald gave him a coffee and some of the freshly baked goods.

Eventually the two did start talking – or more correctly: the shorter Finnish man did all the talking while Berwald simply nodded and offers a few words on his thick accented English.

Despite the pleasantries, Berwald has to admit there is something strange about the younger male.

So when Tino shows up covered in blood as he's about to close the café for the night the Swede hardly bats an eyelash – instead he ushers the shorter blonde inside and helps him bandage his wounds.

"Sorry for causing a mess." Tino quietly whispers as Berwald carefully cleans each cut and scrape with antiseptics.

"It's all right...you should be more careful though..." the taller male mumbles as he tries his very best to ensure Tino's wounds won't end up leaving scars.

Berwald's concern earn him a hearty laugh from the Finn – making the taller of the two blush profoundly and apologise.

"Berwald...you have a heart of gold...you know that?"

He shakes his head – apart from Erik and Preben; Tino is the first one to not run for cover at the sight of him.

"Want to know a secret?"

Berwald nods, but isn't prepared for the reply he gets.

"I kill people for a living."

"You're...in the army then?" even if Berwald doesn't think that's the younger male's job he feels he at least should give him the benefit of the doubt.

Tino shakes his head with a laugh before pulling out a bloodied dagger from his boot – Berwald stiffens immediately at the sight of it, yet even as the blade is pressed against his throat he doesn't panic.

"The army doesn't pay as well as my job does." Tino smirks, a glint of something wild and dangerous in his lavender eyes as he looks up at Berwald.

"Mercenary..." the tall swede breathes out in a whisper, causing Tino to smile like he usually does.

"Correct! And the damn best one in this town." he states proudly, still keeping the sharp blade against Berwald's neck.

"Doesn't explain the scruffy clothes ya wear then...if the pay is so good." He figures he might as well try to find a few things out – if Tino really wants to kill him then right now there isn't much he can do. Not unless he wants to murder the smaller man – and Berwald never really liked violence.

"Disguise" the Finn states matter of factly before he delivers a swift side kick to Berwald's legs – causing the taller man to have to kneel on the floor as his aching leg can't uphold his weight. Tino grabs his hair and forces Berwald to look up at the shorter male who for once towers over him now.

"Aren't you going to fight me Berwald? Try to break free?"

"No.."

"Why not?"

"Don't want to hurt ya.." he mumbles, not wanting to talk to much – lest should his voice make the Finn slide the knife across his neck; ending his life in the process.

Tino laughs hearty as he stands in front of Berwald.

"You really do have a heart of gold, I can promise you such a thing is wasted on most humans. Especially around here."

Tino's voice is bitter, yet Berwald remains completely still.

"But if you never try...you'll never know..." he mumbles back

"Really now?" Tino inquires with curiosity as he bends down – Berwald can feel the Fin's breath against his face as the smaller man comes closer.

"Yeah.." he breathes out quietly, and suddenly Tino is no longer pressing the knife against his throat.

Within seconds Berwald has the smaller man pinned to the floor, dagger embedded into the floor a metre away from them.

Tino stares wide-eyed – he'd never expected Berwald to move so quickly. There is no fear – the lavender eyes only growing dull and lifeless.

"Come on..kill me then." the Finn spits angrily at Berwald

"Got no reason to..." and with that the tall swede lets go of him – retrieving the knife he hands it back to the shorter male, holding the sharp tip between his fingers lightly.

Eyeing him with suspicion Tino finally takes the knife and stuffs it back down in his boot.

"Why did you do that?"

"I could ask you the same..." Berwald retorts back with a shrug.

"I wanted you to hurt me..."

Berwald cocks one eyebrow questioningly at the Finnish male – confused would be an understatement.

"Odd thing to want...you're already wounded."

"Things aren't going to well..." Tino finally admits after several minutes of silence.

"Anything I can do to help?"

Tino laughs and shakes his head. "You're too kind Bear"

Sweden cracks a small smile at the familiar nickname.

It quickly becomes routine – whenever Russia gets too close for comfort, Sweden is there to lend a hand to the smaller Finnish male in any way he can.

Often it's just providing Finland with a safe place to sleep – although occasionally he gets to fire some shots from afar at the Russian and his gang-members. Berwald won't admit it, but he does find it rather thrilling.

What he's doing is in one way highly illegal – yet Berwald knows he's not completely in the wrong. The general public wouldn't mourn anyone from the underworld should his warning short end up being more than just a warning.

The two spend countless nights in Sweden's small flat – taking apart Finland's guns, cleaning them and then reassembling the pieces back together.

Berwald's engineering skills come in handy and he even manages to improve one or two of the guns' performance; something Finland congratulates him on endlessly. Apart from the intimidating Swede no one else has ever been allowed to touch Tino's guns.

~~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~~

Glaring down at the small white haired child sitting on the floor of his workshop, Berwald wonders why the hell Erik let's Haldur out of his sight at all.

The young boy is playing with a stuffed puffin toy and a pair of tweezers the swede had left on the floor before lunch.

Haldur is unfazed by the taller man's glare and only smiles brightly in return.

"Where's your brother?" He grumbles and he bends down to eye level with the small boy

"Working." comes the matter of factly reply as Haldur pretends the tweezers are some dangerous animal attacking his puffin.

With a sigh Berwald sinks down on the floor next to Haldur, and before he knows it he's immersed in the small child's imaginary world.

Finland and Norway find the two pretending to be cops and robbers – a tiny Haldur capturing a gigantic Berwald and loudly proclaiming the chair in the corner to be his jail.

"Cute." Norway remarks as Berwald willingly goes to 'jail'.

"Seems like you have a law-abiding brother" Tino adds with a chuckle

"One of us had to be..." Erik replies with a shrug before he relieves Berwald of the bossy little child.

"Sorry for the bother he caused." he remarks as he lifts Haldur up from the ground.

"Needed the break anyway..." The stoic swede replies – the faintest of smiles gracing his lips as he ruffles Haldur's hair one last time.

Tino watches as the stoic and cold Nordic carries his younger brother out of the workshop.

"Didn't know you liked children Bear" he teases as he watches the swede tidy up around himself.

"Hard not to..."

Finland nods knowingly. No one is too happy about having Haldur around – not even Erik.

Yet everyone agrees it's the best option.

Berwald knows how much Erik cares for his younger brother – separating them would remove the sliver of warmth and humanity still left in the Norseman's stone cold and icy heart.

"Maybe you should get your own kid" Finland laughs as he gives a light punch against the taller males side.

Berwald pretends to ignore the comment – but can't quite help the small blush appearing across his cheeks. A family would be nice...

* * *

><p><em>A.N:<em>

_Spending the first few hours of my b-day posting a chapter...I regret nothing._

_I hope this isn't too hard to follow – I know it jumps a little in the time-line, but hopefully it's not too confusing for you._


	3. Chapter 3

Finland always had excellent vision – by the age of 6 he was already an expert with any toy gun within reach. His parents would boast to everyone within earshot that their son would be a great hunter when he grew up – and it wasn't far from the truth.

Except it wasn't animals Tino ended up hunting – but people.

Both his parents were avid hunters, his father was even the Finnish gold champion at target shooting several years in a row – so it was to no surprise to anyone that the smiling Finn grew up to be an excellent marksman.

Cross bows, bows and arrow, shot guns, pistols – you name the weapon and Tino could master it.

However, his life took a turn for the worse at the age of 14 when his parents disappeared one night – only to be found frozen to death in the woods a week later.

Tino was devastated and he swore revenge.

The police told him it was a simply accident of misfortune – but Tino never believed the adults. His parents were seasoned hunters, no way would they go out in the forest without telling him – nor would they die of something so simple as hypothermia.

He swore to find the culprit and make them pay.

And sure enough – two years later he found the man responsible and with no remorse or the slightest flinch: Tino shot him.

The man was declared dead the next day – the newspaper reported it as an accident.

Supposedly the man had been drunk and tripped while trying to hang his gun back on the wall – but Tino knew the truth and would smile secretly every time the story came up again.

Since then things spiraled downwards – or upwards depending on how one saw it.

The young Finn quickly took the code-name 'Finland' and offered his mercenary serviced to anyone with enough money.

He was perfect for the job – no one expected a young man of 16 to be a killer.

Not that Tino ever categorised himself as that – he only took jobs where he thought the victim was better off dead than alive.

Petty things like a rowdy divorce or arguments over a small sum of money never interested him.

But criminals out of prison due to good behaviour – after having killed many people: those missions he took with ease.

A well aimed shot to a bankers head wasn't out of his expertise either – providing the bastard was doing something Tino generally didn't think bankers should be doing.

He didn't consider himself an evil man – he was making a living; and a good one at that. It was almost surprising how much some people were willing to pay to be rid of a certain 'pest' in their lives.

It wasn't until he met Basch in the year of his seventeenth birthday that the young Finnish man truly realised what he was doing.

The two had been hired to take out one another by the same man – but Basch found it a little strange that someone as young looking as Finland would be the enemy the gangster had made him out to be.

The two gun experts had used up all their ammo before they managed to realise they had been hired to take out one another.

"Germanics hu?" Finland asked as he titled his head to one side, looking at the older blonde with genuine curiosity in his eyes.

"Well...I'm not with them any more..." Basch frowned at the memory and glanced worryingly at his watch – he had to get home soon to look after Anni.

One did not leave a two year old in the care of a baby sitter for longer than one night – plus the Swiss male was never sure who to trust.

"I've never heard of anyone allowed to leave a family..." The Finnish male mused – mostly to himself. It was the reason he worked on his own – other people was only a hassle and someone who could potentially be used against oneself.

"It's not forever..." Basch explained carefully – taking great care not to reveal anything about Anni or even her existence.

"eventually I have to return."

"Really? When is that then?"

Basch counted in his head before replying "Roughly sixteen years."

"That's quite a few years of working on your own." Finland scratched his head before finding his trusty hip-flask full of vodka – offering it to the elder male with a smile.

"Not enough." Basch replied bitterly as he took the hip flaks – taking a large gulp of the clear liquid before handing it back to Finland.

"Sounds as if you're hiding something" the Nordic man eyed the other with suspicion – he hated secrets.

"I have something to protect – and I will protect it with my very life..." The determined look in the Swiss man's eyes told Finland all he needed to know. It also told him not to ask further questions on the subject.

The two parted as equals – and only bumped into one another on occasional mission and for the odd drink or two (although Basch had to buy most of the drinks as no one ever wanted to serve someone as young looking as Finland – something that annoyed the Finnish much more than he had liked to admit)

As for why he ended up seeking help from Sweden and eventually refugee at Denmark's house?

Finland likes being on his own – he never denied that. But as Russia got a bigger and bigger grip on the city, it became increasingly difficult for the young male to get any jobs at all.

I had been a tough bullet to bite to ask Sweden for help – and an even tougher one to finally admit he needed to join a family.

Tino's first choice had initially been Russia's family. His childhood friend had been recruited into the Soviet's quite early on in their careers. But after a secret phone-calls and a few e-mails exchanged Tino realised bowing down to Russia would certainly only mean death to him.

Financial death at least.

His first month in the Nordic household had been a true trial.

Sure: he was used to Sweden and his intimidating glare – but he was not used to seeing said nordic early in the morning, half dressed and half asleep.

Nor was he prepared for the incredibly odd placed he would find Denmark asleep in.

Strangest of places being the pantry – the large male curled up on the floor (halfway under one the bottom shelf mind you) and using a bag of flour as a pillow.

Actually, the most reoccurring place to find Denmark was the bathtub. Finland never did understand how their leader ended up asleep in such strange places – but none of the others ever offered any kind of helpful hints.

Apart from the young Iceland. Who quietly whispered once day that uncle Denmark snored a lot.

Finland decided never to bring up the issue again.

But despite all that, Tino found it a lot nicer than expected. They had a firing range in the basement and his own room was eventually fitted with a hidden wardrobe – specifically designed to store firearms or any kind, sort and size. (Curtsey of Sweden)

the only thing Tino was not at all prepared for and truly struggled to wrap his head around was how often Denmark and Sweden got into meaningless fights.

The simplest of comments could set the other off – and before Tino or Erik could blink the two were at one another's throats.

Disregarding the fact that a young child was usually present during their idiotic brawls it usually took both Norway and Finland's efforts combine to pull the two men apart.

Tino for his part, could not understand it at all.

"All they do is fight!" he exclaimed before singing down in his barstool next to Estonia.

The Soviet hacker placed a comforting hand on Finland's shoulder and slid another glass of beer his way.

"I don't understand it at all...and Norway is no help either! He usually just sits there and lets them beat the hell out of each other" Tino huffed angrily and drank half the beer in one go, placing the glass back down with a loud clunk.

"The way I see it, you'll only get hurt yourself if you try to interfere" Eduard helpfully offered as he gave his old friend a look of pity.

"but how can they enjoy beating each other up every single day?" Tino frowned and quickly drank the rest of his beer – out of them all the shorter blonde could hold his alcohol the best – a fact they had figured out when Denmark had randomly challenged them all to a drinking competition. Norway being exempt since he had to read Iceland a bedtime story (although the cold Nordic male did manage to down a few glasses of cognac before he excused himself)

Eduard sighed and ordered them both a bottle of vodka to share. "They haven't been in this business as long as us – sooner or later they'll realise fighting each other is a waste of precious energy and tim-"

"No no, you don't understand," Finland cut Estonia of with a wave of his hand "Both of them were in the army, and according to Norway they did exactly the same thing!"

"Oh" was all Estonia could think of replying – Finland sure had found himself some truly frightening family members. Perhaps not quite as scary as Russia, but terrifying in a completely different way. Russia intimidated most people, but could still fool you into a false sense of security with his soft voice and warm smile.

The Nordics were a bunch of icicles and snow storms. Not exactly someone you'd what to ever encounter on your own.

"My life sucks" Finland mumbled as he rested his head on the bar's counter.

"Excuse me, head off the table – I just cleaned there."

Finland jerked up as a wet towel connected with the back of his head.

"Leave him be Poland, he's had a rough month."

"Oh boo-ho. Grow a pair and stand up for yourself." the Polish bar-owner retorted in a mocking tone – clearly not impressed with either of them.

Estonia tried to think of a witty reply – but seeing as outside of France's palace Poland was the only one with a 'neutral' bar open to everyone with money and not looking for a fight. How the blonde male managed to keep his neutrality in such a dark city was beyond comprehension – but it worked.

"Seriously, you should just come work for me. I have these fabulous uniforms for the two of you to we-"

"No thank you." Estonia cut in before Poland could even begin to describe or – god forbid – model the uniforms.

"We'll manage on our thank you" Finland politely responded as he poured himself a glass of vodka.

"There is no way he's sane" Finland whispered to Estonia once Poland was out of earshot.

"Is anyone in this city sane?" Eduard mumbled as he swirled the clear liquid around his glass.

Finland could only mumble in agreement.

No one was sane in this business

If you claimed to be sane you were either delusional or lying. The underworld always claimed a sacrifice. Be it your sanity, your purity or your humanity – something had to be offered to ensure survival in the murky depth of the city.

* * *

><p><em>A.N:<em>

_Struggled to write this one, but hopefully Tino is bad-ass enough for everyone's liking 8D_  
><em>and Estonia needs more love as Finland's BFF – it's canon Bl<em>


	4. Chapter 4

_A.N: The women in Hetalia need more love...that is all_

* * *

><p>Despite her job – Belgium was still very much a woman with strong opinions and a solid heart (just not always of gold). She had 'normal' hobbies like cooking and shopping – and not so normal hobbies like collecting information about criminals.<p>

And then there were hobbies that combined both.

Like meeting up with other women in the underworld.

At first it had started as only Belgium and Hungary after they had met at the Germanic mansion because Belgium had some juicy gossip about a politician Germany wanted out of the way.

Since then the group had grown slowly but steadily, yet they still managed to keep it fairly secret from the rest of their families. For a few hours a month they didn't care about alliances, who was in what family or who had done what to someone else. For this little while they where simply women enjoying each others company.

"We have new neighbours." Ukraine announced during their lunch, sipping her drink daintily as she smiled warmly, reminding Belgium of a motherly figure – and considering the busty woman's age: she truly could be their mother.

"Really? Who is it?" Seychelles enquired eagerly, eyes wide in anticipation to who would be brave (or stupid) enough to move too close to the Soviet's lands of influence.

"Some Nordic men." Belarus added with a cold glare, obviously not amused but their new 'neighbours'.

"Nordic?" Belgium tilted her head and stared at the two soviet sisters – trying to determine if she had heard much about these 'Nordics' from others.

"Yes, three men so far." Belarus replied with a frown

"And this adorable little child." Ukraine interjected with a smile as she wrapped her arms around herself – as if she was giving an imaginary child a hug.

"I have heard rumours about this...do you think they'll pose a threat to..any of us?" Monaco added as she sipped her tea.

"If they try anything we'll kick their ass!" Seychelles exclaimed with a large grin.

"Seychelles...manners." Monaco scolded the younger woman with a frown.

Belgium high-five'd the tanned girl with a smile before turning towards Ukraine again.

"What do they look like?" she needed this information badly – it was her job. And she hated secrets being kept from her.

"Well..there's Denmark: he's tall and fairly muscular – always smiling and I think he must use a lot of gel to get this hair to stick up like that..." Belgium snorted at the older woman's words – this man sounded a bit like her brother – except for the whole 'smiling' business.

"Then there's this other guy, who's actually the same height as our brother, if not taller." Ukraine smiled sweetly, ignoring the worried looks the other women gave one another at the though that there was someone else just as gigantic as Russia out there.

"The third one is a total dick." Belarus added dryly.

"Oh don't say that Natalia," Ukraine scolded the younger woman "Norway is polite – you're just sour because he managed to come up with a good comeback, leaving you speechless."

Belarus frowned at her sister's words and crossed her arms in a huff

"Still think he's a dick..."

Belgium giggled at the though that someone had managed to silence the cold soviet woman without using a gag.

"And the child?" Seychelles asked eagerly, almost jumping up and down in her seat in excitement – she was the youngest out of them all – so whenever someone brought up the word 'child' she immediately jumped on them – wanting to know everything. So far she'd been highly disappointed by the fact that the Asian Family only had Taiwan, Korea and Hong-Kong – all younger than her.

She was 15 as opposed to the Asian's 5, 7 and 6 years of age respectively.

"He's six and very shy – kept hiding behind his brother's leg the entire time."

Ukraine giggled at the memory, while Seychelles sank down in her chair again – there went her hopes on having someone her own age to 'play' with.

"So you've both met them all?" Monaco inquired carefully

"We are having some disputes on borders and who own what, so there have been many meetings already." Belarus replied coolly

"Oh come on, you'll win that easily, your brother can make rocks cry." Seychelles laughed happily at her own joke

"I don't think it will be that easy..." Hungary interjected, playing with her spoon on her plate

"Why not?" the tanned female asked

"I've met Denmark...he won't be intimidated that easily."

"How have you met him?" Belgium was beginning to become frustrated she had yet to see these new people – and she was supposed to be the information central of the underworld!

"He came to our mansion two years ago – demanding land.."

"And you just gave it to him?" Monaco added in disbelief, the Germanic family is hardly known for their generosity.

"He's the great-grandson of Scandia - Germania's brother – we had no choice. Austria and Germany are strict in upholding deals; even when they are not that beneficial to themselves. Plus: no offence girls; but we're not too keen on sharing borders with your brother."

Hungary smiled apologetically – even the smiling and motherly Ukraine can be down right terrifying if she wants.

Belarus frowned but Ukraine only nodded in agreement "Understandable." she added with a smile.

"Wait till France hears about this" Seychelles grinned widely and wriggled in her seat in excitement, making Monaco sighs and scold the younger woman once again for being so un-ladylike.

"Be careful about that actually," Hungary warns both Seychelles and Monaco.

"Norway is scarily good at doing business – letting him into your casino might be a bad idea."

"That's fine, we'll just make them waste their money in the bar first" Seychelles states with a grin – she might not be legal age to drink herself – but she's damn good at making others drink.

"You can give up on that already" Belarus cuts in coolly as she starts filing her nails "Last time we had them over for a meeting, Russia thought it would be a good idea to get them drunk before having the meeting..."

"It backfired horribly." Ukraine adds with a sigh

"Not only did they drink our supplies dry – they were all still too sober to enable us to fool them in any way." Belarus frowns and embeds the nails file into the wooden table, making Monaco flinch.

"It was only later we found out that our older brother actually knew Denmark from when they were younger. They used to drink together or something" Ukraine rolls her eyes at her brother's addiction to vodka – one of these days it will kill him.

"So, correct me if I'm wrong; but as far as I've gathered none of us should trust these Nordic men at all...or even better; avoid them at all cost?" Monaco looks worriedly around the table at the other women.

The two soviet women nod solemnly.

"I want to meet them." Belgium adds after a moment of awkward silence as everyone considers this new threat to their lives.

"I'd advice against it." Ukraine replies helpfully, a hint of genuine concern for the younger blonde in her voice.

"Oh come on...if this Norway guy has a six-year old brother – how bad can he be?" and she needs to find out more about them – information is how she makes a living!

"Just don't come to the next meeting crying...after all, we've warned you." Belarus replies drily. They're the same age – the difference is that Belarus is an ice queen, while Belgium is the warm sunshine. Oddly enough they get on rather well despite this.

As everyone takes their leave – Seychelles manages to slip a little note to Belgium; asking her to share any information about these Nordic men when she can.

~~~~~~~~~~X~~~~~~~~~~

It's surprisingly easy to find Iceland at least – only a few phone calls to local schools and she's found him.

After all, a six year old child with white hair is fairly easy to identify.

Belgium carefully observes as Norway drops his younger brother off at school – and picks him up again at the end of the day. She can't imagine Belarus' words to be true – because Norway smiles so warmly at Iceland when the white haired child embraces him that Belgium refuses to believe this man is as cold as they claim.

And when she finally manages to speak to him, he's polite as anything.

She hadn't meant to meet bump into him so abruptly – yet she prides herself with being opportunistic – so when she literally bumps into him while grocery shopping (Dropping her basket full of food) she resolves to make the best of it.

Norway apologises politely and helps her pick all of her things up again – a small Iceland hiding behind his brother the entire time.

"Well hello there little one." Belgium smiles warmly at the young child, yet her efforts only earn her a blush before the white haired child hides his face in Norway's dark blue coat.

"You must excuse him...he's not good with new faces." Norway places his basket down on the floor before picking Iceland up in his arms – the small child quickly responds to the lift by wrapping his arms around his brothers neck and buries his face in the tall man's coat.

"How precious." the blonde female coos – its not even a lie: Iceland is utterly adorable.

"Haldur...be nice and at least say 'hello' to the pretty lady" Norway lightly scolds as he tries to pry the small child away from his neck.

Belgium feels herself blushing at the Nordic male's words, but is thankful Norway seems to miss it.

"Hallo..." Iceland finally manages with a quiet and soft voice – Belgium's heart melts immediately and she has to use a lot of willpower to stop herself from asking Norway if she can cuddle his little brother.

"Well, we should get going. I apologise for the inconvenience Miss Belgium" Norway bends down as he let's Iceland down to the floor, immediately the small child scurries back behind his brothers legs. The older Nordic sighs as he rolls his eyes at his little brothers shy behaviour before he picks up his shopping basket.

Belgium stares in shock – she never told him her name or anything!

"H-How..how do you know that name?"

"Miss Belgium, you might be the queen of information around here..but that doesn't make you the only source" the Nordic smirks down at her and suddenly Belgium understands exactly what Belarus was talking about. There is something about the blonde Nordics' eyes and voice that just radiates a certain coldness it's impossible to ignore.

She shivers under his cold gaze – it's like he can see straight htrough her.

"If you knew - why be so polite, and even reveal Iceland's real name?" she asks with a frown – she was caught off guard and now she feels like a fool.

"Should I be rude?" Norway inquires with a smirk, making Belgium want to slap him hard across the face.

"No, it just doesn't make sense."

"Miss Belgium...understand this: I am well aware of your role in this murky world we both reside in – sooner or later either myself or my family will require either your services or your brother's...I doubt I'll get much help should I act rude – it would do me no good in the long run." Norway places a hand on Haldur's head and ruffles the child's white locks gently, making Iceland whine and attempt to untangle his hair.

"As for Haldur...why would his name need to be secret? I can even tell you my name if that would make you happier."

"Perhaps..." she mulls it over – the police would certainly pay good money to have Norway's real name; after all – that's why they operate on code-names – it makes it difficult for the police to pin any crime to them.

"Erik Alexander Sørensen." Norway stretches his hand out for Belgium to take as he reveals his full name, Belgium blinks in surprise before she shakes his hand gently, his hands rough and callused – much more so than hers.

"Margreet Van Gent," she responds courtly "it's nice to meet you..." she adds with a warm smile – despite feeling betrayed and angry. She needs to up her game – by their next meeting she wants to know everything about him.

"Pleasure is all mine" he responds with a calm voice before letting go of her hand "I'm sure I will see you shortly..."

and with that, the two brothers disappear.

Margreet is still confounded by the meeting by the time she return to her 'home' – an old abandoned windmill that her brother has converted to a rather comfortable house. Willem is far from amused about her meeting with the Nordic – yet he eventually agrees that if he gets any requests to work with or for them on something: he'll be sure to either bring her or let her know everything.

She won't be caught off guard again – that's for sure.

* * *

><p><em>A.N:<em>

_Ukraine is very much older in this fic...but unless you can guess I won't reveal her age quite yet~~ _  
><em>I'm having too much fun altering their ages to make it fit this storyline (even if it requires a calculator to keep track at times)<em>


	5. Chapter 5

France considers himself lucky.

He has wealth, a safe home and should anyone ever try to hurt him or his dearest family then he has contacts in the underworld that would make the highest politician or government official wet their pants in terror.

Several of the various families that occupy and rule of the different part of the city often rent out some of the large halls or private rooms in his casino and hotel. It's good money to accommodate for criminals.

It's an unwritten rule: France's home is a peace zone – no one owns the land the 'palace' stands on but François. And the Frenchman considers himself very, very fortunate to have such 'freedom' in this city.

Sure, occasionally a fight breaks out over who owes who money after that last drunken poker game – but it's times like this France has Monaco and Seychelles. Even if Seychelles is but a mere child in most men's eyes she has a mind and a wit far surpassing many of her elders and peers.

And if the two women can't calm the argument, Cuba and Netherlands (if they're around) are always willing to lend a hand for a small price.

In all honesty, François only problem is Arthur.

Arthur's first words upon meeting him was simply:

"You just wait you old frog...I'll make this little illegal business of yours fall to the ground!"

At the time France had only laughed – the British policeman was 6 years younger than him and newly transferred over to this city. Perhaps in his mind he had though himself capable of bringing down the intricate Mafia system present in the city.

However, that was 7 years ago.

Arthur was 28 back then – the same age as his two newest recruits now: Alfred and Mathieu.

France had found it rather adorable how hard Arthur had tried to bring him down – with no success whatsoever.

Yet, even if the grumpy British man had perhaps given up on bringing him down; the young American man had picked up right where Arthur left of.

Perhaps he should rephrase: his only problem in life is Arthur and Alfred.

"Sooo...how's business going then Mr Bonnefoy?" Alfred was leaning over the bar with a smug grin like no tomorrow – standing a little further back was a very nervous looking Mathieu; the young Canadian male obviously felt very out of place surrounded by Mafia men in suits and women in elegant ball-gown dresses.

"It is going wonderful as always Monsieur Jones," France replied with a friendly smile and a wink.

"in fact, it is going so well I think I might have the expand my palace!" the blonde Frenchman waved his hands eagerly around causing Alfred to frown slightly.

"Expand? You can't do that."

"Why not my dear policeman?" François inquired mockingly

"You don't have planning permission for such a thing."

The comment made France laugh out loud, almost keeling over with laughter at the young man's ignorance.

"My my, Mr Bonnefoy...whatever could be so funny?" A tall woman – her hair short – approached the three men.

France's laughter stopped immediately, instead he grinned widely and did an elegant little bow behind the bar towards the woman.

"Ahh Katya! What an absolute pleasure it is to see you again. Your beauty only grows and grows!" he cooed lovingly as he took her outstretched hand and planted a soft kiss to her knuckles.

"Such a Gentleman you are – even if your words are all lies." she giggled in return.

"Surely you must believe me..." France gave a mock pout at Ukraine before he had a sly idea.

"Monsieur William! What do you think? How old would you guess this wonderful woman is?"

The blonde Canadian stiffened at the use of his name and blushed profoundly when Ukraine directed her gaze towards him – her ample bust only made more prominent by her low-cut dress and the beautiful diamond necklace draped around her neck.

"I..well...I..." Mathieu had great trouble finding the right words and tried to get his American partner to help. However; Alfred was far too preoccupied with keeping an eye on a certain Russian male further away in the bar and did not notice his co-workers plights.

With a sigh Mathieu decided to take a wild stab in the dark.

"I'm not certain, it'd difficult to guess accurately, but...perhaps...30?" he offered with an uncertain voice.

Ukraine blinked a few times before smiling widely.

"See? Your beauty knows no age limit." France smiled triumphantly before handing the blonde woman a glass of champagne.

"A whole ten years younger, you sure know how to flatter me." Katya smiled warmly as she took a step closer to the Canadian swirling the bubbly liquid around in her glass.

Mathieu blushed as she came closer – not only was the older woman beautiful – she was 40.

He was having trouble to think coherently thoughts, so when Ukraine gave him a peck on the check he thought he was about to faint on the spot.

"You should come by on your day off, I bet you would look good in a suit..." she remarked with a whisper before she disappeared in-between the crowded bar.

Mathieu stared after her till Alfred finally realised his partner wasn't paying attention to his great plan of heroic deeds to bring the Mafia families regimes to en end.

France chuckled to himself as the American male had to drag the other one out by the arm.

"Interesting." He remarked as he saw the two policemen disappear out the door.

"What's interesting?" Seychelles inquired as she returned from the private function rooms. Warm and sweaty after standing in the spotlight for an hour.

"Our new little Canadian policeman seems infatuated with our lovely Ukraine..."

"Eww. She's...old...and he's really young." the tanned woman remarked with a slight frown.

"Now now dear Sey...Mathieu is only a year younger than you. And Katya is a year younger than me. Or are you trying to tell me I'm old too?" the Frenchman pouted at his adopted daughter

"You're practically ancient," she remarked with a smirk before giving him a small peck to the cheek "but I love you anyway."

"That's what I want to hear" François smiled before ushering her off to change clothes.

~~~~~~~~X~~~~~~~~

"You better not be serious about expanding Francis." Arthur frowned deeply as he downed the glass of whiskey presented to him.

"Oh but I am Arthur...I am." France grinned like the Cheshire cat as he re-filled the Briton's glass. Letting the British man's mispronunciation of his name slide for the time being.

"You'll only cause more trouble for everyone – me included" Arthur bit back bitterly as the newly re-filled glass disappeared like air,

"Quite the contrary my dear Englishman – it will be beneficial for everyone, except for you of course."

"Bloody old frog, do you know how difficult it is to be a policeman in this godforsaken city?"

"About as difficult it is to enjoy British food?" France replied with a smirk, causing the other male to smash his glass on the black marble surface of the bar. The blonde Frenchman was glad he had a whole crate of cheap IKEA glasses for this very purpose – no way would he ever serve anything to Arthur in his finest crystal glasses.

"All I've done for you...and you repay me like this?" Arthur gritted his teeth in anger at François.

"Now, now. No need to get angry..." France held his hands up in defence, trying to calm the irritable Brit "And you've not helped me. It's more like you've tried to keep a certain cousin of yours safe."

Arthur deflated and placed his head on the black marble.

"Bloody Jett..." he mumbled as he prodded the empty glass.

François sighed – how on earth was is possible for two men to be mortal enemies; yet still be the one person they would confine in.

"Your cousin is doing well...him and his sister are in good hands as far as my sources indicate..."

"Do you know where they are?" the Englishman inquired with a soft whisper, trying so hard not to show too much emotion.

"With the BeNeLux siblings" France replied with a smile as he filled a new glass for Arthur once again.

Arthur shot up and stared wide eyed at the Frenchman.

"They...they're staying with Netherlands?" his voice was near panic as he glanced around the room in fear.

"Calm yourself Arthur...Netherlands is a trustworthy man."

"I don't trust him any further than I can throw him, and that's not very far! Bloody Dutch..." Arthur cut in bitterly

"Outside of my home, they are as close to neutral as you'll get in this city," France glared at the bushy-eyebrowed man "your little Australian cousin poisoned a man...so unless you want to be the one to drag him to trial then I suggest you shut up and let the underworld's inhabitants do as they wish."

"Kura deserves a better life." Arthur muttered angrily as he downed his drink – France was sure the Englishman could drain half the bar on his own if he was allowed to.

"Siblings are better to stay together, besides she seems to have made friends with Lux..."

"Friends with criminals! how far will my family sink?" Arthur spat out.

"If you're an indication, they all have a bit more to go." France smirked as he poured himself a glass of wine.

The argument that followed could be heard through the entire bar and eventually France had to drag the angry Briton out the doors himself.

* * *

><p>A.N:<br>I accidentally Cougar!Ukraine.  
>I am not even sorry.<p>

Kura is a RP friends name for female NZ. I kinda liked it.  
>Lux has no name yet – so I'm open for suggestions for him I guess.<p> 


End file.
